


Slap Me Baby!

by ehhlliie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehhlliie/pseuds/ehhlliie
Summary: Soulmate AU where you have a dark stain on your body where your soulmate is supposed to touch you for the first time. When they do, it disappears.Viktor has a dark palm on his cheek.





	Slap Me Baby!

“Should I just get plastic surgery?”

Chris stares at him. Stares at him like he grew a penis on his head. No that’s not right. If he did, Chris would look a little more amused, Viktor thinks. Phone in the air and snapping photos like his life depended on it. It’s dark in the club, neon flashing lights doing next to nothing to brighten up the place but Viktor can still see how absolutely horrified the Swiss looks. It’s actually pretty funny. Viktor grins. Chris doesn’t.

“Cherie.” Chris speaks after a pregnant moment of silence. He sounds serious. Very serious. “Are you okay?”

“How much does it cost?” Viktor mumbles against the rim of his drink. He registers the question but he’s had seventeen shots of hard liquor. Russians aren’t immortal. Words are failing him faster than it took for his previous one-night-stand to finish.

“Cherie.” His best friend chokes out again. He sounds a little more worried this time, a tinge of anxiety in his voice. “Did you hit your head?”

Viktor frowns. Of course he didn't. What is Chris talking about? Then he pauses.

Oh right. _Context._

“If I change my face and leave the country, no one will recognise me and I won’t need to go to work tomorrow.” 

Chris sighs in obvious relief. Or at least Viktor thinks he does. He barely hears it over the thumping of the bass and cheering of the large crowd behind him. But Chris suddenly looks like he’s lost ten years off his face.

“I personally know sixteen people who would tear off their balls for a face like yours. Don’t scare me.”

“Audits scare me.”

“It’s just two more weeks. You’ll survive.” Chris eyes slip from his friend and start trailing after a man who walked past them, dressed in what can only be described as mesh and lace. What is cloth? What is opacity? Who knows?

“Yes Chris. But my _sanity._ ” Viktor groans, slumping against the bar table. It feels sticky. Clubs never bother cleaning up their tables properly anyway, not when another drink is going to be spilled within the next twenty seconds or so.

He hears a loud crash, the shattering of a glass and a shriek. 

Maybe ten.

Two weeks left. He will survive this. He has to. But the yearly audit season is madness in its purest form and with Yakov breathing down his neck, choosing to speak (yell, scream, holler) at him in Russian instead of English (Russian has more potent swear words, he claims), Viktor is _this_ close to dying.

“I’m dying.” He vocalises. Another shot slips down his throat. The bass is starting to sound a little more fuzzy and far more muffled than it did an hour ago. Chris pats him on the back and he can literally feel the pity rolling off of him. 

The air is thick with alcohol, sweat and vomit. It’s gross, the slight clean freak in Viktor clawing at his skin. But he needs it. 

_Chris, I embody death,_ he remembers telling his friend over the phone earlier that day. _One more minute in this place and I’m going to explode. Or combust. Or just die in general._

And that’s exactly how he ends up here, in a shady gay club in the back alley of a street that Viktor knows his parents would not be the most approving of. But he doesn’t give a fuck and lets Chris drag him in, his best friend clad in a leather crop top and black pants so tight Viktor can literally see the outline of his balls. It’s not a pretty sight, (not to him at least, but five men have tried to feel him up in the past hour so Chris has got that going for him, Viktor figures), but Viktor can’t really bring himself to give any more than half a damn. 

He himself isn’t dressed the most societally approving but he figures that a sheer white shirt and black jeans looks a whole lot more decent than the neon crop tops, thigh-high stocking and stripper heels more than a handful of men are wearing tonight.

Chris hums, long eyelashes fluttering. His glittery eyeshadows catches the sporadic light. “For a moment I thought you were talking about this.” Chris’ hand brushes Viktor’s cheek. 

Viktor looks at man’s palm. It’s dark, stark in comparison to the rest of his fair body.

See, everyone is born with a spot. A dark spot, somewhat like a birthmark. Except this birthmark is where and how your soulmate is supposed to touch you for the first time.

Most people, like Chris, and the many other people in the club, have dark palms. It's probably the most common mark Viktor has seen. Other common ones include hand prints on shoulders or darkened blotches on their upper arms from being pressed against someone in the train during rush hour. 

Can you imagine? Boarding the train during rush hour to get to work and alighting with a soulmate.

The idea is absolutely adorable, romantic and Viktor would have loved it –

Had it not been for the dark, angry handprint on his right cheek.

Viktor scowls, the alcohol not doing enough to devoid his body of the ability to feel peeved. It makes it worse, actually.

He remembers growing up and his friends having a field trip about it, though it was a great conversation starter. 

_Maybe I’m your soulmate?_ It was two seconds into their first meeting at a university event before Chris slapped him. Viktor was shook. Floored. And then they became best friends.

He wasn’t his soulmate, of course. He knows from his parents that if it really it your soulmate, the mark would disappear. Fizzle out. _It will feel cold,_ his mother told him, _like drinking cold water after chewing gum._ But it’s been 28 years and he’s still stuck with the same mark, as dark and glaringly obvious as it was when he was a baby. 

According to his dad, that was the first thing he pointed out when he left his mom’s body.

_Jesus, honey, I think our kid’s gonna be into BDSM!_

He isn’t, of course. Then he thinks again, harder this time. Unsavoury images of how he likes seeing people writhe and beg under him fill his fuzzled brain and changes his mind slightly.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Chris asks, pushing another conquest off his shoulder. The poor soul lands on the floor in an unglamorous lump of human. Chris has always been rather picky.

“Soulmates schoulmates.” Viktor grumbles. “Why my face?”

“Why not? It’s funny.” 

“Not funny…” Viktor narrows his eyes, “You’ve been laughing at this for the past ten years.”

“I have, and I will continue laughing about it till the day I meet my maker.” Chris smiles. It’s not kind nor understanding but rather borders on sadistic and Viktor wants to whack him. But his arm is losing strength. The alcohol is starting to numb his system.

“I hate you so much.” Viktor exhales loudly and slumps against Chris’ toned body. 

“Yes you hate me so much that you can’t keep your hands off me.” Chris responds easily. He’s used to this by now. Viktor isn’t the most appropriate drunk. He would know, he’s been on the receiving end of his… antics on more occasions than he’d like. 

“Mmmmm.” Viktor mumbles into Chris’ lapels and his friend easily ducks a kiss. “It’s hot.”

“No! No you’re not taking your clothes off today, not here!” Chris yelps when Viktor elbows him hard in the ribs when he tries to shrug his vest off.

“But it’s hooooot!”

Chris yanks Viktor’s vest back up his shoulders and grabs his wrist. "Okay no more drinking for you. Go sit down, embarrassing excuse of a human being.”

He grabs his drink, holding it high up in the air and Viktor claws for it before giving up without much of a fight. He slugs back into his chair, back hunched and cheek propped up on an open palm. He giggles loudly.

“I love you Chrissy!”

“Who the _fuck_ is Chrissy?” Chris asks, unamused as he signals for a glass of water from the bartender. “I thought you hated me?”

“Mm no..! I don’t wanna.” Viktor turns away from the offered glass. His shoulders move in an attempt to get his vest off again.

“No one wants to see your dong!” Chris groans, plopping him back down, “Are you alive?”

“We’re all dead inside Chris,” Viktor mumbles, the alcohol searing and coursing through his veins. His fingers feel numb and his eyes are half-open. “But I will still love you..! ‘Ven if you’re deaaaad.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Chris yelps, quickly dodging a wet kiss from his friend. “Bless me!”

“I will bless you with kisses! C’me ‘ere!” Viktor all but throws himself against Chris, earning a loud grunt of protest. Chris presses his hands to Viktor’s cheek, pushing him away. Viktor’s frame is not small and with all his body weight on Chris, it is hard to keep his puckering lips away from his face.

Chris flares his nostrils and with one big push, he forces Viktor back onto the stool, the man slumping, head hanging slack.

“What am I going to do with you?” Chris ruffles his hair, slapping away Viktor’s hand that was snaking around his waist.

“‘S hoooot!” Viktor groans again, flailing his arms to get his vest off. His arms spread wide and before he can register it, he feels his hands hit something.

The person spins around, face shocked at the sudden assault.

Or someone, rather.

Chris’ eyes go round. “Oh Lord I am so sorry, my friend here is an idiot. He’s pretty drunk.”

The man stares at Viktor before he laughs, his dark eyes twinkling. Chris swallows.

"Oh don’t worry about it! I’ve seen much worse.”

His eyes drop from Chris’ face to Viktor’s. Viktor is half-splayed over the counter, mouth hung open and looking rather simbulant of an idiot. 

“Your friend has an interesting soulmark.” The man adds. Chris notices that the man has an accent. One that he’s never heard before. It’s cute. He likes it.

“He does indeed,” Chris chuckles, eyes raking the man’s figure. He registers a tight striped crop top, grey skinny jeans and chunky heels. It’s a pretty sight. “I’m not his soulmate though. Tried slapping him more than once to confirm it but no.”

The man smiles. Chris notices the way he looks at him, eyes lingering on his face only slightly longer than necessary. “You sound like a great friend.”

“Is that sarcasm I sense?”

“No, I’d like to be your friend.” The tanned man shrugs a shoulder but Chris sees a cheeky glint in his eyes. Words fail him. Dark eyes lock with his.

He shifts to the side and Chris sees another dark haired man plopped next to him. He looks as un-alive as Viktor does. “We came here to celebrate the end of exams but I’ve been babysitting him for the past hour.”

“He looks…” Chris takes in the disheveled hair, flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “Dead.”

“He’s a horrible drunk. We went drinking once and he started pole dancing.”

Chris laughs loudly before the man cuts him off.

“I was the pole.”

Chris is now full-on cackling, clutching his stomach. The Asian man frowns but Chris registers no ill intent. “I would pay good money to see that.”

“You want to see my friend grinding down on me?”

“Since your friend here is half-dead, I could volunteer.” 

It’s then that Viktor decides to push himself off the table. He jabs a finger into Chris’ chest. “No dance?”

Chris tears his eyes off the exotic man. It’s difficult, but he manages. “No babe, gotta take care of you.”

Viktor pushes his friend with an open palm. “No you.” he flails his arms in the direction of the dance floor. “Dance.”

“Babe you look like death.”

“Death good. Dance also good.” Viktor blurbs out. He turns to the tanned man. “You dance with Chrissy.”

“Chrissy?” The man raises an eyebrow, lips quirked into a smile. He looks at Chris. “Interesting name.”

“Jesus no. I’m Chris.” 

“No, you Chrissy.” Viktor babbles against his palm. He turns to the stranger. “Chrissy has condom in wallet. Go fun fun.”

“Viktor!” Chris yelps loudly. He grabs Viktor’s shoulders, pulls him towards him and looks at the tanned man, eyes apologetic. “Sorry, he’s really drunk.”

“Mmmm, can tell.” The stranger has an unreadable expression on his face for a second then he smiles. It’s an inviting smile and Chris knows it when he sees it.

“Wanna dance?” The man beats him to it. It’s dark but Chris can see a blush blooming on his cheeks. 

Now Chris isn’t a bad friend. He considers himself a pretty damn good one actually. Years of putting up with Nikiforov’s antics has done anything but wonders to his complexion. And so he decides that he’ll reward himself with a dance (or two) with the man. 

Chris pushes his way through the crowd, the smaller man trailing closely behind him. 

He turns around and the man is looking at him, eyes dark, gaze heavy.

(Maybe more.)

Nikiforov will survive. 

-

Another glass crashes against the table top and Viktor wakes up no more than fourteen minutes later. He _wakes up_ wakes up. Eyes clearer than before and heart beating at a far more reasonable pace. Russians aren’t immortal but they’re pretty damn close. 

His cheek is still plastered against the sticky, sweet-smelling table and his shirt sticks momentarily to the icky table and he makes several mental notes to wash it the minute he’s home. He groans, vision getting clearer and sees someone no more than two arms’ lengths away from him. 

“Chris…” he moans and then he stops, because that isn’t Chris. Chris doesn’t have black hair, Chris doesn’t have brown eyes and Chris _definitely_ isn’t this cute. He takes in the sight before him and wow he thinks, it’s like he can finally breathe right. The messy lump in front of him is a tumble of onyx hair, flushed, freckled cheeks, a button nose and pink, full lips. Viktor wants more than anything to reach out and touch them to see if they’re that soft.

He doesn’t, of course. As if on cue, Cutie Pie stirs, groaning lowly and _Jesus_ Viktor keens.

He mumbles something. Viktor can’t hear him and he takes the nicely-presented opportunity to shift a seat closer to him. There’s only one empty seat between them now but it’s a distance that Viktor decides is a little too far for comfort. Cutie Pie blinks once, twice, then he pushes himself off the table. He stares straight ahead, looking adorable as fuck with his out-of-focus eyes and then he turns to Viktor. Viktor forgets to breathe, forgets how to breathe when Cutie Pie giggles.

“Funny soulmark!”

_Lord Jesus I take back all my complaints about my soulmark._

If it’s the soulmark that gets Cutie Pie to start talking to Viktor, he doesn’t mind having a dick-shaped one either.

“Pretty hair…” The stranger slurs, hiccuping. He leans against the table, resting a soft cheek on his palms.

“Thanks.” Viktor responds easily. The stranger is facing him now and he quickly rakes in his form. Black short-sleeved shirt with mesh back details and white jeans that hugged his thighs _oh Christ his thighs thank you Jesus!_

Wordlessly, the stranger hops off the bar seat. Panic rushes through Viktor’s bones momentarily. _No Cutie Pie don’t go!_ But it settles as soon as he realises that the man is just shifting positions. He pressed his front against the table top, leaning his weight on his elbows. Viktor swallows hard when he arches his back and he can’t stop his eyes from trailing down to the round, smooth curve of ass -

_No Nikiforov, gentleman. You are gentleman._

He shoots his gaze back up and Cutie Pie’s eyes don’t leave his. He holds his gaze for a moment and then he smiles, all giggles and pearly-white grins. Viktor dies.

“Pretty eyeeeeeees.” Cutie Pie continues, eyes half-open.

Name. He needs his name now.

“I’m Viktor.” Viktor blurts out. He ignores the ache settling in his throat as he forces his voice over the pounding music. “I’m Viktor Nikiforov. What about you?”

Cutie Pie looks at him like he’s speaking alien. His brows furrow and then they relax.

“‘M Yuuri Katsuki… ‘S nice t’meet you!” He waves shakily. His palm is dark too. Viktor sighs. Looks like Cutie Pie here isn’t his soulmate. It would have been nice though.

Yuuri leans his head backwards and tilts it towards Viktor. His dark eyes twinkling in borrowed light. Viktor groans. _Soulmate schoulmate,_ he wants his number.

“Are you local?” He leans in. At the newfound proximity, he sees just how white Yuuri’s teeth are. The man shakes his head, silky locks flying messily. 

“From Japan… here on long ‘erm business trip… hic..!” Yuuri sneezes after hs hiccups and Viktor melts. He is a puddle, a pool of candy and rainbows and unicorns and everything beautiful in this world.

Yuuri sneezes again and stares at Viktor. “Russian?”

“I am.” Yuuri grins. Viktor smiles back. “How did you know?

He giggles and Viktor is finding it increasingly hard not to kiss him. “Could tell fr’m your acc - hic! Accent hehe.”

Viktor had only been in Detroit for two years so it would be natural that his native accent still clung to his words. The lights are dimming now but he can still see how Yuuri’s eyes are fixated on him. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asks, “Other than my soulmark?”

“No… just…” Yuuri frowns. “You are very… イケメン.”

Viktor blinks at the foreign language. Yuri purses his lips together. “Forgot English… face… good? 男前?”

Viktor thinks. Then he tries. “Handsome?”

Yuuri claps his hands in glee, smiling goofily. “Yes, handsome! You… very very _very_ han’some!”

“I think you’re handsome too.” Viktor looks at him. Studies him. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you..!” Yuuri slurs out.

The next few heartbeats pass with them staring at each other. Yuuri’s drunk but his gaze doesn’t waver. He’s staring at Viktor like he’s a piece of meat. Viktor shivers. It’s pretty warm in the club but he feels a shiver course through his body down to his fingertips. He likes the way he looks at him. 

Viktor shifts in closer, arm resting casually on the table top. “So Yuuri, how old are you?”

Yuuri squints his eyes, as though Viktor had just asked him about the theories of quantum gravity. “24..? Oh yes yes birthday two days ago!”

“Oh!” Viktor returns the grin. “Happy belated birthday!”

He’s met with another toothy grin and pearly whites. Yuuri raises his hand to scratch his head and Viktor sees the darkened palm again. He hums softly. “So Yuuri.”

Yuuri looks up at the mention of his name. Viktor points to his hand. “No luck yet huh?”

He tries his best to sound composed but somewhere in his gut, he feels something pool. Something akin to excitement. 

Yuuri shakes his head hard. “No… no soulmate.”

Yuuri’s cheeks are flushed red at this point and Viktor swallows the saliva that has been collecting at the back of his throat. “Boyfriend?”

Yuuri frowns and shakes his head again. Viktor is on cloud nine. Cloud ten. Why stop at nine? He allows himself a prolonged gaze on Yuuri’s face and decides there and then that he needs to see this man again. _Soulmates schoulmates, no one said anything about not being allowed to do things with people who aren’t your soulmate._

“So you’re single?” He asks, just to confirm. His excitement is rattling heavily against his chest and it’s about to explode.

Yuuri nods his head heavily. “Never had a boyfriend before, n’ver kissed before!”

Viktor stares at flushed cheeks, fluttering eyelashes and pink, luscious lips incredulously. He pauses, registering Yuuri’s exclamation.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?” He confirms. Yuuri nods.

 _The world is mad._ Viktor thinks gravely. He wants to kiss this man till he forgets how to breathe and he’s telling him that he’s never been kissed?

“That’s… surprising.” He settles for saying. “You’re gorgeous.”

Yuuri smiles warmly. “Thanks.”

The man is beautiful and Viktor makes a mental note to edit the Wikipedia page of the Seven Wonders of The World once he gets home. Leaning Tower of Pisa? What?

His gaze trails down to Yuuri’s lips. He’s almost completely sober now and when he’s nudged out of the way by people crowding at the bar, he takes the opportunity to move closer to Yuuri. Hesitantly, he shifts into the seat next to the man and finds himself a mere foot away from his face. It’s like a spiritual awakening, Viktor thinks, because seeing Yuuri up close makes him think that he’s finally found the answers to all the problems in the world.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Yuuri’s eyes flutter open, lips parting slightly. Viktor jumps back, bumping into the people behind him. He hears an angry protest but can’t find it within himself to give a damn. His mouth goes dry.

“You’re… really gorgeous.”

Yuuri grins again, auburn eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You’re more handsome. Most handsome man I’ve seen in my life.”

Viktor’s hands shift up, fingers a breath width from touching Yuuri’s cheek. The younger man sighs soft in content and Viktor sees the way his chest stops moving, breath pausing in heavy anticipation. 

“Yuuri, can I?” Viktor asks softly. He leans in slowly, searching for any signs of discomfort or rejection but Yuuri closes his eyes and leans in too. Viktor sighs in relief and shifts in, closing the gap between them -

And then his head is jerked to the side, the loud slap ringing so loud that everyone within a five-metre radius is turning to stare at the two of them. He blinks, shocked. And then he turns to Yuuri, the younger man panting hard, eyes wide open in realisation.

“S-Sorry I… I didn't mean to!” Yuuri yelps, suddenly sounding very sober. “I just… I got scared and I… it’s okay, I’m okay now, you can… We can… do it now.”

Viktor’s heart stings a little at the rejection but he takes no offence. He’s more concerned if the man is okay. “No, I’m sorry, it’s your first kiss and to have it with a stranger…”

Yuuri shakes his head violently, sending his fringe flying. “No no no no no! It’s… I mean, I want to… with you… I mean, yeah.”

He’s babbling but it’s coherent and Viktor gets it. His cheek still stings but Yuuri looks up at him, expression hopefully and wanting and Viktor caves. He shifts forward and inhales and then it hits him.

_It will feel cold, his mother told him, like drinking cold water after chewing gum._

His cheek prickles. It’s a weird sensation. He feels a rush of blood to his face, but it’s not. It’s not warm, it’s cold and strange and his brows furrow in confusion. _Wha-?_

Yuuri’s eyes grow wide.

“Your cheek…” Yuuri’s voice trails off, devoid of slurs or hiccups. Viktor pauses. Wait. He looks at Yuuri’s palm resting idly on the table and it’s… it’s…

_Not darkened._

“Wait.” Viktor says. He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s fluent in three languages and all three fail him. “Wait.”

“We… You… Me…” Yuuri’s eyes are round, mouth hanging wide open. He’s not faring much better. “Your soulmark is gone?”

“So…” Viktor’s mouth is bone-dry. “So is yours.”

Yuuri’s dark orbs are glimmering now and Viktor notices the beautiful gold flecks within them. They’re absolutely breathtaking.

The two of them stand there and stare. And stare. And stare. The noise of the outside world is drowning out and Viktor focuses his full attention on the man _(his soulmate)_ before him.

“So… we’re…” Yuuri swallows, “Soulmates?”

“I - I think so?” Viktor responds stupidly. All coherent vocabulary is thrown out the window.

He looks at the man. Viktor’s eyes take in the sight, appreciating his beauty. _This man is my soulmate…_ and then slowly, the largest, goofiest grins spreads across his face. He takes two strides forward and scoops the younger man into a tight embrace. He hears a yelp next to his ear before he feels the body go lax against his chest, a pair of slender coming up to clutch tightly at his back.

“Soulmate?” Yuuri’s voice trembles slightly. But it’s out of joy, Viktor is absolutely sure. He can hear the man smile.

Viktor laughs. “Soulmate.”

He smooths his palms up and down Yuuri’s back, feeling muscles tense and relax under his touch. “This is the last place I thought I’d find my soulmate.”

“Me too.” Yuuri smiles into his chest and Viktor sings praises to the Lord. He’s not a religious man

Yuuri slinks back slightly and before Viktor can ask what’s wrong, he feels the softest, _softest_ pair of lips press against his. Arms wrap around his neck and Viktor dies. He embodies death. But in a good way. In the best way possible. He tightens his hold around Yuuri’s slim waist and deepens the kiss. Yuuri mumbles his name against his lips and Viktor decides there and then he isn’t going anywhere. No plastic surgery, no skipping the country. He’s got this, just like he’s got his soulmate wrapped in his arms.

He savours the warmth spreading from the pit of his stomach to every inch of his body. When Yuuri licks his bottom lip, he’s only vaguely conscious of Chris stumbling back with the stranger from earlier. His palm is clean, soulmark gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN AGES AND I'M PRETTY SURE THERE ARE A TON OF MISTAKES EVERYWHERE SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME.
> 
> Found this AU suggestion floating around somewhere and I've been itching to write about it since! Viktuuri AUs give me life.


End file.
